


Rapture

by berrybliss



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Kuroko in dresses, M/M, Phantom of the Opera AU, disjointed storytelling, does not strictly follow POTO events, guess whose relationship, originally "Love Never Dies", self-indulgent fic, study of a very tragic relationship maybe, the irony of the current title tho lol, what is this monster I have created
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9977081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berrybliss/pseuds/berrybliss
Summary: The events in the Teikou Opera House about a reclusive genius who bears love for his protégé, spanning from the start of his descent into madness till his permanent disappearance from the theatrical world.Not all fairytales can end happily.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly a love letter to my other fic, "Vicissitude". The structure is actually a bit similar if you squint hard enough. And yes, no Punjab Lasso here, haha.  
> No prior knowledge about POTO is needed to read this ^^ Enjoy!

* * *

  
**Act I: Angel of Music**

* * *

  
The Teikou Opera House makes its debut in a time of musical renaissance, a progressive landmark in a world of convention and gradual growth. Housing a wide array of seats for an opera house of its time, it starts off big, and becomes a venue that, over time, succeeds in securing only the greatest variety of performances. The Imperial family, in fact, occasionally visits to watch, taking the pristine Imperial Box for themselves, but Akashi Seijuro, a highly experienced virtuoso who has borne witness to the birth of this opera house and has stayed in it ever since, knows for a fact that the performing group is losing its touch, and that the Imperial family has not come for a very long time. Variety, after all, does not equate to quality, and Seijuro knows what ‘good’ sounds like. It is disheartening, to say the least, to see many a subpar performance being performed in an opera house once thrumming as the beating heart of Japan’s theatrical arts.

The curtains have fallen for Seijuro’s days as an opera singer. He had stumbled upon Teikou when he was a boy of thirteen, already used to being subject to the mocks and jeers of performers and strangers alike for his disfigured features. Around that time, Teikou was in its early construction stages, merely pieces of wood and brick that seemed to take no direction.

He discovered his talent and passion for music when he had been much younger, of course, and was good at what he did. It is well-recognized, even now, that Seijuro is a living prodigy, naturally talented in the art - but what perturbs people constantly overtakes their love for his voice.

In all truth, his career had not been one without praise - in fact, it was as well-received as he was scorned - and it had been at age 20 that he felt weary about his singing, leading him to retire from the life of a performer. It is all fresh in his memory, and even now, people whisper his name - that of “The Phantom” who wanders from opera house to opera house, a mysterious masked monster of a man with the voice of an angel.

He thinks about this often when he is alone, but doubts anyone would understand, because there is hardly anyone who can be in his position. There are whispers of him making a deal with the devil, and though that is not exactly how it turned out, he does admit that there is truth in that statement.

(He remembers hair spun like gold thread, and matching gold eyes that had taken amusement in his misery. The memory is clear like water - the voice saying that he is the devil’s muse, then granting him immortal life in return for his dedication towards music.)

He does not miss singing for the public, because his voice and genius are his to utilize, and it all boils down to the fact that people had once made entertainment of his disfigurement, painting images of him for their very own indulgence. It came to the point wherein the line between his real persona and his stage persona blurred. He abhorred that, and wanted to spend the rest of his pathetic life dedicating himself to the sole thing that both enlivened and tormented him: music. Just, in different ways - something that would not compromise his privacy.

Teikou provides a home for him for the following years- they respect his wishes to not be disturbed, although it is mostly done out of reluctance and fear for what he is capable of. He becomes the puppet master behind the productions, giving his own advice to the main supervisors of each performance without really ever showing himself.

It is in a very quiet night, when all but the cleaners have left the opera supposedly, that he hears a voice that reminds him of his former self (but not quite).

The voice he hears is one purely devoted and purely made for music, one in the soprano range. It reverberates, soft but with a lasting impression when Seijuro passes the practice room at 1 in the morning and witnesses the final notes of an aria. Every single one of the notes is treated with tender care - it is not raw genius, but something that has been tested with time - it is love for the art - passion and devotion melded into a sweet symphony. It is what resonates so strongly with Seijuro’s dormant soul, and lights a fire in him - because he realizes quickly that this is what he has been subconsciously searching for, and that this singer is someone that he can share his passion to, because surely, this person is an instrument of God, and loves music above all.

He could be wrong, of course, but never in his miserable years of existence has he felt so strongly about one’s singing.

Seijuro watches in wonderment as the blue haired male keeps on practicing - it lasts for a long time, and the singer seems content with his practice by about another hour’s worth of it. It is by this time that Seijuro reveals himself from the shadows, and elicits a stifled gasp from the sopranist. Blue, doe-like eyes widen, and the moon watches the scene unfold from its place in the heavens.

“I’m sorry - I was quite drawn to the exquisite quality of your voice.” He says, “I’ve never heard anything like it.”

The 17 year old sopranist blushes at this comment. He seems flattered, and the pale pink dusting his cheeks suits him. “Thank you.” His voice is soft but clear, and it drives Seijuro mad. “I believe the opera is well past its closing hours, sir. You shouldn’t be here.”

Seijuro wears a wry smile and closes the distance between them. Tetsuya narrows his eyes, and clutches his piano sheets tightly to his chest, as if for protection.

“You do not know who I am, truly?” Seijuro presses.

“Surely I’d remember a face such as yours…” Tetsuya trails off, shaking his head. But maybe he doesn’t need to remember, because even if he hasn’t met this man before, he really should have known at first glance. Crimson red hair, heterochromatic eyes, and a disfigured face partially covered by a mask. It all makes sense.

One does not need to be a performer to know who The Phantom is.

The Phantom of the Opera. The Angel of Music.

“I’m sorry,” Tetsuya gasps into his hand, apologetic. “It wasn’t right of me to say that.”

“I’m sure you didn’t mean anything by it.” Seijuro says lightly. If anything, he seems amused. “It was the reaction I anticipated. Your name, sweet one…?”

“…Tetsuya,” He replies, almost as if in a trance. “Kuroko Tetsuya.”

Seijuro nods, “I am more commonly known as The Phantom, but you may call me Seijuro.”

Tetsuya knows about this cursed man, has heard tales about him from his childhood - but instead of being afraid, Tetsuya finds fascination in a myth that has materialized in front of his very own eyes. He remembers words his father told him, of an “angel of music” who would come for him someday and seal a pact of flesh and bone, contract sealed in blood and song. This voice, The Phantom’s voice - he finally recognizes it. It is the voice in his dreams, the voice that tells him he is destined for greatness - the voice that drives away his nightmares and his doubts about himself.

But then…

“This must be a mistake, Seijuro-sama. I… I’m only a supporting singer.” Tetsuya licks his lips, “In fact, I’ve never been the lead in my life, and surely you’ve mistaken me for someone else.“

“It was fate that brought me here, Tetsuya. This is no coincidence, I am sure of it.” Seijuro turns his back on Tetsuya, and faces him again. “I see potential in you Tetsuya, and I am never wrong about such things. Above all, I see in you an unparalleled love for music, and under my guidance, yes…”

He trails his finger down Tetsuya’s chin and tilts it up. “Under my guidance, your talent will bloom - and before long, the whole world will know your name.”

Tetsuya is frozen on the spot. Taking long breaths, he breathes in Seijuro’s scent. It smells faintly of sherry. Seijuro’s velvety voice echoes in his ear, and he is already cornered, he knows - knows that there is no escape from this intricate prison Seijuro has built for him, and that he is a willing captive to the desire to share his music to the world.  
(All to reach him someday.)

“I am the Phantom, Tetsuya,” Seijuro whispers, “And you will be my protégé.”

He bends down and takes Tetsuya’s hand, but doesn’t quite kiss it. Lips brush softly against it, instead, and Tetsuya suppresses a shudder. It is the kiss of a stranger, but it leaves a mark of considerable depth, a lasting impression that promises a future of endless possibility for mentor and student.

“I shall see you again when the opportunity presents itself.” Seijuro says, “Good night, Tetsuya.”

Tetsuya lets his hand fall to his side, and finally feels like himself again.

“Good night, Seijuro-sama.”

* * *

  
_That night, The Phantom meets his protégé for the very first time._

* * *

 

True to his words, Seijuro makes Tetsuya shine bright.

Tetsuya knows this, and feels that in every performance, he is slowly improving. It’s a wonderful feeling, finding out that there is more to him than what he initially thought he had. Still, he does not need the whole world to watch him perform - he values those who listen above all, and Seijuro is a faithful listener. The more they spend time together, the more Tetsuya finds himself singing for him. He finds a sense of purpose in doing so, and perhaps this was what he was born to do - it hardly ever seemed like it was coincidence that brought them together. Tetsuya felt tremendous joy doing what he loved most for someone who appreciated him just as much.

Tetsuya, after all, sees the small smiles, the exaltations, when Seijuro likes his performances - those smiles are valuable things, because Tetsuya knows that to some extent, he has changed something in Seijuro’s life. He brightens up Seijuro’s days by continuing to sing, and signs of that amaze him, no matter how little they may be. It paints the picture of a very human Seijuro, and it comes to life - vividly, in the presence of Tetsuya himself.

Seijuro is many things to Tetsuya. A mentor, an epiphany, a musical inspiration - an unreachable, distant star…

A friend? Tetsuya certainly hopes so.

“Is it ever lonely for you, Seijuro-sama?”

“Do I look so lonely to you, Tetsuya?” Seijuro chuckles good-naturedly. “I suppose my living quarters do give that impression. If I were to give an answer to that question… then no, I am not lonely. I have always been someone content with solitude.”

 _Until you came, that is_ , is what Seijuro doesn’t say.

The Phantom, for such a well-famed singer, lives rather humbly, Tetsuya thinks. There seem to be no personal possessions of any kind, other than a few piles of books and a few fancy fountain pens (because that seems to be his writing preference). Tetsuya often finds Seijuro penning something down on his scrolls, but he’s never actually asked about the content. It had always felt too personal to ask.

_What secrets are hiding behind that mask?_

Seijuro looks at Tetsuya with an intense stare, the truth of his words laid bare. “Occasionally, it is the reason for my solitude that angers me, and not the fact that I am at the constant mercy of solitude. The feeling I bear for it has significantly waned over time.”

Seijuro has never admitted this to someone else before, but then, he’s never really had anyone to talk to before Tetsuya came. “I used to be lonely, I suppose, but that all seems like a very long time ago.”

“ ‘Used to’…?” Tetsuya asks with a small tilt of his head.

“Yes. It is of no importance now, though.” Seijuro closes his eyes. Memories flash in his mind, but they are scars that do not - _cannot_ harm him now, because he has fully embraced what he is. Tetsuya makes him doubt this sometimes - makes him wonder what it would have been like to be like everyone else- makes him feel like there is more to his identity - but coming to terms with such a reality… it has always been hard, but Tetsuya makes the semblance of it easier. The mere presence of Tetsuya in his life changes him in many different ways.

He looks at his protégé - Kuroko Tetsuya, so full of promise. He is a nice addition to the hollow walls of his chambers, something alive and something genuine. He does not need to ask why Tetsuya stays, because theirs is a relationship that is complex and cannot be phrased in any way without being judged by pretense.  
“I want to know more about you, Seijuro-sama.”

The honesty of Tetsuya’s request hits Seijuro with full force. The feeling that blooms in his chest is something he has felt a few times in his life - something along the lines of restraint and impulse. It is childlike and uncharacteristic of him, and he realizes that Tetsuya does complicate some things for him too.

  
There are lingering questions in the air, but it is not constricting, not in the way Seijuro thought it would be. His throat becomes dry, and he finds his voice come out in a hoarse whisper.

“Sing for me, will you?”

Tetsuya gives him a knowing, tender smile, and nods. It’s a bit sad - almost like sympathy, but not quite. “Of course.” He says.

When the song begins, the world around them vanishes. They simply become two souls in an ideal world, swept away to a grave of dreams and the birth of real wonders.

* * *

  
It will only be a matter of time before the seats are filled to watch Tetsuya perform his solos. He is starting to attract the attention of other influential figures, and Seijuro is pleased by this, to say the least. They are full of nothing but praise for his protégé, and he finds himself swelling with pride.

It is only the beginning of everything that is to come, and Seijuro watches from his secluded box in the right, giving him a good view of Tetsuya, who is wearing a gown that was picked out especially for him - courtesy of Seijuro himself. Tetsuya had been against the idea, but ended up being convinced that Seijuro knew what was best for him - and indeed, Seijuro had been right - in the cerulean gown that further accentuated his ocean blue eyes, Tetsuya was a rare jewel, a resplendent spectacle to behold.

Simply watching Tetsuya holding such prominent vivacity after giving such a commendable performance takes Seijuro’s breath away, leaving him at a loss for words.

Blue eyes meet crimson and gold. Tetsuya mouths ‘thank you’ with his lips, like he always does. Seijuro’s approving glance is enough of an answer.

The crowd erupts into cheers when Tetsuya is called for the final encore. He bows, eyes widening when he receives a bouquet of flowers sent by a tanned male who is sitting in one of the boxes in the opposite side of the room, also relatively close to the stage. Tetsuya smiles radiantly at the sender, having eyes for him and only him.

Seijuro bites his lip so hard it bleeds. He disappears from the scene like he always does, planning his next course of action. What does he do from here?

The answer is simple. He waits.

(Akashi Seijuro has never been a patient man.)

* * *

  
The wait is cruel and torturous for Seijuro - every single minute of it - but he supposes that for Tetsuya, he is willing to wait. Yet still, for every second he has spending time for himself, he finds that he cannot erase the image of Tetsuya with that blue haired male.

Why should it mean anything to me?

Seijuro smiles.

But of course.

Tetsuya is Tetsuya after all, and perhaps, that is enough answer in itself.

The voice in him craves, yelling mad musings of the heart.

_~~Mine, mine, mine-~~ _

* * *

Aomine Daiki has grown so much since Tetsuya last saw him.

He is definitely about three heads taller than Tetsuya, or maybe even more, because Tetsuya’s head does not even reach his shoulder. Wearing a black dress coat befitting of his status as one of the nobility, his tie in an orderly fashion, Aomine is the picture of society’s manners, even if his dark blue eyes contain a wild, frenzied storm when they catch sight of Tetsuya coming his way to greet him.

Another performer considerately takes the flowers when Tetsuya finds his hands full. He and Aomine embrace, paying no concern to those that glance their way. Many people are curious as to what the nature of their relationship is, but none actually insist on acting upon their urge to ask. Tetsuya bids farewell to his fellow performers, because they are to retire for the night, as, it is the last performance. Peeking through the plush, red curtains, he finds that many of the guests have already left the hall.

Aomine’s scent. It is the smell of expensive cologne and freshly pressed clothes. His voice, too, has changed - there is a smoother quality to it that tugs at Tetsuya’s heartstrings.

“You were amazing out there, Tetsu.”

Tetsuya thanks him in earnest, “It’s so good to see you, Aomine-kun. How have you been?”

“There’s nothing interesting about my life, that’s for sure. Meetings here and there, a bit of trade and commerce mixed in…” He scoffs, but his smile turns wider when he starts talking about Tetsuya. “You always said you wanted to sing in a stage as big as this someday, and you did it. I always knew you had it in you.”

“And I would like to thank you for believing in me after all this time.” Tetsuya smiles. He misses this. It’s been so long since he was in the company of someone outside the opera staff. It is a breath of fresh air, a reminder that there is a world outside of music, but very much in the same orbit as that world.

Then it hits Tetsuya.

“I have so much I want to talk to you about, but…”

He presses his lips together. There is uneasiness inside of him, a sense of dread that comes back to him when he remembers seeing Seijuro’s box empty. He has disappeared, and is no doubt in his quarters-

Seijuro will be expecting him.

“I must be going now.” Tetsuya says, “I am expected by my mentor.”

“How much do you practice, Tetsu?” There is a hint of complaint in Aomine’s voice, and it’s understandable, considering the amount of time they’ve spent away from each other, ”I mean, you are properly eating your meals, right? They’re treating you well?”

“I practice as much as I am required.” is Tetsuya’s hushed reply. Aomine feels that something is amiss, and wants to ask, but Tetsuya’s eyes seem to pleading, _begging_ him to not ask any more questions. This silences him, and it hits him that he doesn’t know a lot about Tetsuya’s current life - about his life behind the stage, his life after what they once had.

(Those countless hours spent bathing under the sun, watching their footprints in the sand being washed away by the rising tide.)

There is something about the small fear that flashes in Tetsuya’s face that reminds Aomine of those waves - the memories they share are big and grand in his eyes, but the waves - they come to disturb Tetsuya’s expression. The waves cast shadows - all signs of the happiness they once shared together are buried, replaced by a gaping emptiness, an emptiness that Aomine feels the need to fill, because what stretches beyond is a mysterious horizon of unspoken terror. He feels a shiver down his spine at the thought.

“Forgive me.” Tetsuya raises a hand to shield his face and touch it lightly, “I am tired, and not quite myself.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Tetsu. Maybe you should rest? I’m sure your mentor would understand.”

Tetsuya nods, “I will consider it.”

“Then I won’t be keeping you any longer,” Tipping his hat, Aomine bows with a flourish.

“It was nice getting to see you, Tetsu. Maybe some other time.”

“It was nice seeing you too, Aomine-kun.” Tetsuya gives him a reserved smile, “I had faith we would see each other again.”

“So did I, Tetsu.” Aomine says, smiling. “So did I.”

When he lets go of Tetsuya’s hand after they exchange brief farewells, the warmth of it lingers. He feels like he shouldn’t have left Tetsuya there - like maybe, he should have tried to reach out further instead of letting it pass so easily.

And so, promising to not make the same mistake twice, Count Aomine Daiki leaves the Teikou Opera House.

* * *

 

**_Act II: The Point of No Return_ **

* * *

 

There is something darker about Seijuro’s quarters when Tetsuya enters them that night, something more foreboding about the way Seijuro blends so well into these shadows, much like the phantom they say he is. Immediately, he regrets overstaying with Aomine, and apologizes for his tardiness.

The clock strikes ten, and for a moment, the chiming of the grandfather clock is the only thing that can be heard within the room, further stressing the thick silence mentor and student share.

Seijuro stands up from his seat to greet him. The light in his protégé’s eyes is different when he steps back warily - it is something almost apprehensive in nature, something Seijuro knows very well.

“It took you quite a while.” He finds himself saying, coming off harsher than expected.

Tetsuya doesn’t quite meet his gaze, his head bowed low. Seijuro doesn’t like it when he does that, and he states such plainly. “Look at me, Tetsuya. There is no need for you to be afraid.” His lips curve into a bitter grimace, “Or perhaps, you look away because you fail to understand why I am in such a foul disposition, and feel uncomfortable starting to see even more the ugliness that my soul contains?”

Tetsuya purses his lips. “You are displeased, and I apologize if my actions have caused whatever has angered you so.”

“It is not your actions, Tetsuya, that anger me. I am angry at the puzzlement of which I now perceive my solitude when you are in the company of someone else.” Seijuro hisses. Cold fire burns in him, seeping through his usual countenance carved from ice. His fingers dig into his palm as he breathes out sharply.

“I do not ask for your understanding, Tetsuya, but I’m sure a person such as you will at least know a semblance of what I feel.” Because Tetsuya is compassionate, and this time, he doesn’t look away when Seijuro says, “I am very protective over what little I have.”

Tetsuya reaches for Seijuro’s hand, “Seijuro-sama-“

“Don’t make this any harder.”

Tetsuya retracts his hand, hugging his small figure as if to shield himself from the biting cold that is becoming even more apparent by the second. Seijuro’s back is turned to him, and he feels so, very small, when saying, “I wish I could understand.”

Seijuro is thankful that Tetsuya does not claim to understand - he shakes his head and seats himself, regaining rationale and composure. 

“It is best if we retire for the night.” He says finally. “It would be a lie to claim that I am not myself right now, but I think my mind is clear enough to know that being in close proximity to me would only unsettle you.”

But strangely, Tetsuya stands his ground.

“Did you not hear what I just said, Tetsuya?”

“I did,” Tetsuya draws in a sharp intake of breath, “And I will leave after you hear what I have to say. Forgive me for saying this, for I may be overstepping my boundaries, but please don’t keep such things to yourself. You cannot shoulder everything alone, Seijuro-sama, and that is altogether unhealthy.”

It is the first time Tetsuya has spoken his mind so much, and Seijuro finds himself intrigued by this display of care and concern.

“I may not understand right now,” Tetsuya says, “But I may listen, at least. I am at your disposal, as a friend and as a fellow enthusiast, and I hope there comes a day that you trust me with your secrets too.”

Tetsuya’s words almost sound like a challenge, but no - it is an earnest request, and when Tetsuya bids him goodnight and leaves him alone to his thoughts, Seijuro starts to _see_ more clearly.

And it’s a cycle of hatred and self-reflection - over, and over, and over again.

Tetsuya, after all, had threatened to unleash the monster in him, unaware of the consequences that might follow - and was Seijuro really so wrong to blindly follow an ideal that perhaps, there was a person out there who could accept him for all that he was, know his secrets, and still emerge alive and whole?

Was that why he felt so protective over Tetsuya, so possessive and never wanting to let go?

(He’s pressed onto the paper too hard. The ink blots, a glaring imperfection in the yellowed parchment, and it reminds Seijuro of blood spilling onto the pavement, the laugh of a demon who stares into his eyes and asks him what he wishes for. It reminds him of an unwilling contract sealed from so long ago that has tied him to this world of misery and anguish, he a willing prisoner to the cage of music and greatness-)

Not for the first time does Seijuro find himself being plagued by his inner demons. This time, however, he finds that fear comes with them- a strange fear for rejection - the rejection of a person of whom the enormity of his dirtied, fallen soul has come to fall in love with…

The rejection of a person whose heart may never, ever be his.

* * *

 

There is a point in time when Tetsuya’s fears are realized. His father passes on, and there is only he who can mourn for him, because there are no other living relatives. Seijuro does not know Kuroko Takumi, but any loss of the music world is a loss of his, in a sense.

Tetsuya does not rest as a performer, but he does ask leave from practice from Seijuro, which Seijuro grants without hesitance. Seijuro, as always, stays, and observes the inner workings of the opera house, hearing every faint thrum and every sound made within the vicinity. The next production is one just recently penned by the ever-so-talented playwright, Midorima Shintarou. Midorima’s works have never been ones to disappoint, and _The Bells_ is sure to be quite the anticipated production.

Midorima never concerns himself with the creative adaptations of his work, so it is left to Teikou to decide as to how the show will go. Teikou, after all, has reached a point of unprecedented prestige, and collaborates in deciding as to who will play the parts and manages the schedules at which the musical numbers are performed.  It is an enterprise that is good at what it does, and part of it they owe to Seijuro.

Seijuro has a meeting with The Madame who is arranging everything behind the scenes, including the casting.

She casts a sympathetic glance at him, “I humbly don’t think Tetsuya-kun should take on the lead at this time, Akashi-san. While we always do appreciate your supervision and your expertise, it’s just really not a good time for him. I’m sure you know of this, considering the speculations of… your _involvement_ with him.”

“I am aware of the situation, yes,” Seijuro says curtly, not too concerned that word really does spread fast. He knows of the hushed whispers, sometimes scandalous in nature and oftentimes meant to pull Tetsuya down - more often than Seijuro would like. No one can discredit Tetsuya’s talent, of course, and he can make sure of that if he wants to. That’s not to say Tetsuya would want his interference in the matter at all, though.

“I am suggesting it for the success of the opera house, as per agreement.”

“Of course, of course,” The Madame says rushedly, sounding as if she does not want to have this conversation at all. “Tetsuya-kun is our performer, however, and this is for his own well-being. I hope you understand, Akashi-san. He will not perform this time around. Perhaps in the next production.”

Seijuro narrows his eyes into slits, “Who do you suggest for the lead then?”

And sure enough, Seijuro knows the name that The Madame suggests.

A sigh escapes his lips. “I have passed on my judgment regarding this matter. There is nothing more that can be done.”

The Madame’s eyes soften. “I’m glad you understand.”

* * *

 

Feeling like having a change of pace, Seijuro finds himself going out. He still feels strange irritation about what happened, but supposes that it can’t be helped. Such a waste though, because he feels like Tetsuya is at the peak of his career and this is a wasted opportunity. He would like to show Tetsuya off to the world - because Tetsuya could be what he could never become, because Tetsuya was what the world wanted - fresh, beautiful, purely loved by all who see him for what he is, envied for how he is valued by others…

What does it feel like to be loved? He wonders this as he roams the streets, soon winding up in a graveyard he has come to know all too well.

He hides in a corner, away from Tetsuya’s view. The snow makes it hard to see - Tetsuya is clad in white, and he could almost pass as a snow fairy if he wished. Seijuro considers walking over to him and wrapping his coat around Tetsuya, but Tetsuya does not look like he wants nor expects company. It is a private moment between father and son, a glimpse of Tetsuya’s world outside the opera, and Seijuro watches silently.

(Because now that Tetsuya’s father is gone, there is only one person Seijuro can think of as a remnant of Tetsuya’s life before he had committed himself to music.)

Tetsuya stays, kneeling before his father’s grave - unmoving despite the harsh gusts of wind sending his cloak aflutter. He is whispering something inaudible, eyes closed and completely unaware of Seijuro’s presence. There is sheer pain in Tetsuya’s eyes, but the tears do not fall.

He does not cry for his father’s sake. There is a strength to this that fans the flames in Seijuro’s heart, leading to disquiet.

 _So much love._ He thinks. He wants to reach out to Tetsuya, but does not know how to comfort him, not in any way at all. He recalls his own words - he ‘doesn’t expect Tetsuya to understand’ - and imagines the very same words coming from Tetsuya himself.

It is then that an approaching figure catches Seijuro’s attention. He most certainly does not expect Aomine Daiki to be there, but it only makes sense once Seijuro thinks about it, because of course _Aomine Daiki could give Kuroko Tetsuya what Akashi Seijuro could not._

* * *

 

“Tetsu.”

Tetsuya almost drops to his knees when he hears Aomine’s voice again. He feels weak, wanting so much to fade and scream into the vast beyond. Wiping tears that threaten to spill out with the back of his hand, he stands up to meet with Aomine.

“Aomine-kun, I… I’m sorry I had you come. There was no one I could turn to and I felt so trapped-“

“It’s okay, Tetsu. It really is.”

Tetsuya trembles in Aomine’s arms. “He sees and hears… everything… I feel myself slipping when I’m near him.”

 Aomine’s pulls him closer, his smile brittle and full of promise. “You know I’m always here for you, Tetsu. You can tell me anything.”

Tetsuya shakes his head, “I don’t know where to start - and I don’t have much time. I will have to go soon.” He speaks with haste, and Aomine notices the dread in Tetsuya’s voice.

“Should our encounters always have to end like this? Don’t leave me hanging, Tetsu.” Aomine looks like he’s pleading, “We can’t go on like this.”

When their lips come into contact with each other, it is _fire_ \- consuming them whole and leaving only ashes in its wake. Tetsuya feels his hood slipping off, but he feels the warmest he has in a very long time.

“I know,” He breathes out, putting his hand to Aomine’s cheek. He knows this very well, and it hurts him to know that he cannot be truthful with Aomine, because he cannot bring himself to pull Aomine into this mess any more than he already has.

“Things have changed.” Tetsuya finds a hidden reserve of strength within himself, and lets himself be overwhelmed, because he has never thought himself capable of doing this - of pushing away his very first friend - his confidante who is asking for a future… asking for something he is so willing to give.

“I’ll find a way to set things right, Aomine-kun, but this is goodbye for now.”

He lets go of Aomine’s hand, and tries not to look back and see the hurt on Aomine’s face.

_What have I done?_

Tetsuya’s tears streak down his cheeks after he is unable to bear it any longer, his mind in such chaotic disarray that he feels tired to the bone. Speeding past the crowd of strangers, feeling emptiness and ruin - Tetsuya runs to the Teikou Opera House with heavy footfalls, because where else would he go? A passing glimmer and a flickering spark, he disappears, searching for a place where he cannot extinguish Aomine’s bright light - the place where he rightfully belongs.

* * *

 

When Tetsuya gets back, the first performance of _The Bells_ has started. He wishes the performers luck, assures them that he is fine, and goes further into the deep recesses of the Opera House, where Seijuro is waiting. The night is painted with colors of lost paradise for the audience bearing witness to the production, what with the costume sets fully optimized while the performers are dancing. Mariko, the lead, starts the first song as the lively musical accompaniment begins to play.

They are distant echoes to Tetsuya, however, who finds himself stared upon by the hollow eyes of figureheads and sculptures - things of stillness and unchanging pulchritude, as dead as the stones they are carved from.

And Seijuro is in the midst of it all - looking sympathetic, even. He does not wait for Tetsuya to approach, and says, with that voice of his made of velvet, straight out of some distant nightmare, “Are you alright, Tetsuya?”

“Is it the truth you ask for, Seijuro-sama?” Tetsuya asks tiredly.

Seijuro regards him in askance, “I have never asked for anything but the truth from you, Tetsuya,” He narrows his eyes, images of the sight from earlier coming to mind, “-but maybe even that is too much to ask from you at this point.”

Seijuro’s smile there and then is tormented, wistful. “I saw you with Aomine Daiki.”

The melodies from the hall on upper ground continue. Tetsuya feels his world stop moving. “Seijuro-sama, if this is about Aomine-kun-“

Seijuro puts a finger to Tetsuya’s lips to silence him. His gold eye glints conspicuously, and it’s definitely not a trick of the light. “Hush, Tetsuya… there is no need for you to explain. You have done nothing wrong.”

Seijuro sees something else in Tetsuya, something that was not this abundant before. He knows it with all the faces he has seen wearing such an expression, but it hurts more because Tetsuya is no stranger. Tetsuya who is his other half, his creation…

Tetsuya is afraid.

The song goes into its highest notes. It reaches the climax, and then….

There are high-pitched shrieks and screams, loud gasps and the clear sound of breaking glass.

The chandelier in the performance hall has fallen.

“Everything within this opera is within my control, Tetsuya. I made this clear quite early on.”

Tetsuya steps back, “Who _are_ you…?” The shrieks are still there, and they pound at Tetsuya’s head, splitting it into two. His sense of reality distorts, because the person standing in front of him is a mystery, almost a stranger.

The man standing before him smirks cruelly. “I am Akashi Seijuro, of course.”

“And you… you are of my making, Kuroko Tetsuya. You are born of my genius, and I from yours. Can you not see it? We were brought together by forces higher than fate itself… so why must you defy what is in store for us? Why do you resist?”

Tetsuya’s eyes are full of hurt. “Listen to yourself, Seijuro-sama, please. What has happened… it changes nothing.”

Seijuro’s hand is cold - so, very cold, even more so than the harshest of winter nights. Its touch burns against Tetsuya’s skin. He grips Tetsuya’s shoulder, and Tetsuya cries out in pain.

“It changes _everything_.” Seijuro’s grip loosens. “Make no mistake, Tetsuya. I will always find my way to you, no matter where you go from here. You are mine and mine alone.”

Before Seijuro can walk away from him, however, Tetsuya grabs for the white mask, and tears it from Seijuro’s face, revealing a canvas of scars and imperfections. He feels on the brink of crying for Seijuro when he sees the betrayal mar his face.

Seijuro looks at him, almost as if searching for answers while on the verge of a pitless fall. There is no sign of anger on his cursed visage.

“I will break you for this, Tetsuya,” Seijuro says, turning away, “I’ve named my price - until then, you are free.”

Because there is no better bargain to be made - Aomine will have his freedom, and in return, Tetsuya will lose his. Tetsuya knows that Seijuro knows this. His knees finally give way, and in the dimly lit corridor, he feels the most alone he’s been in a long while, without a father and without a friend - surrounded only by hollow silence, the final act of the performance coming to an end.

* * *

 

It is a quiet day for Midorima Shintarou, who finds himself going to a very luxurious residence somewhere in town, which happens to be the property of a certain Aomine Daiki. Midorima has no time to be intimidated by its grandeur - after all, the message he carries will not be light on the Aomine heir.

He normally does not take to socializing with the aristocratic class, finding them utterly mundane, but he decides to make an exception. When he rings the doorbell, he waits, tucking his hands into his coat’s pocket. The one who answers the door is a tanned male who he assumes to be Aomine Daiki. While Midorima is glad it is not a man with graying hair and sunken skin, the bags under Aomine’s eyes speak volumes.

“You are Aomine Daiki, yes?”

Aomine squints. “Have we met?”

“No,” Midorima replies, holding out his hand, which Aomine takes. “Midorima Shintarou. I am here on urgent business. It would be much appreciated if you let me into your home and not leave me shivering in… this cold.”

“Midorima, was it? No offense, but I don’t exactly let random people into my house. Do you have an invitation from my dad or something?”

“I don’t, but I have come to speak about someone you know - someone named Kuroko Tetsuya.”

Aomine’s eyes widen. The mention of Tetsuya’s name alone elicits a sort of desperation that Midorima comes to pity, what with Aomine’s formerly indifferent façade now reduced to nothingness.

“What about Tetsu? Tell me he’s okay - I haven’t heard from him in a while and when I went to Teikou they said he didn’t want anyone to see him, that he wasn’t taking visitors and-“

Midorima looks at him severely, and Aomine’s face drops. “Sorry. I’ve just been worried about Tetsu for days… I forgot myself. Come in.”

Midorima nods, murmuring his thanks. He is led into the living room, where there is a burning fire and there are cozy chairs that are more than ready to accommodate visitors. Notably, in the desk nearest to the fireplace, there are sheets of paper. He reads the script on the topmost part of the paper without difficulty - being a writer himself - and finds out that they are unsent letters, all addressed to one person.

“It is understandable for you to be so worried. By now, I would assume that your friend is… for the lack of a better term, fine, contrary to what you might think. It’s more complicated than it sounds.”

Aomine sighs. “At this point, I’m ready to hear anything.”

Midorima takes out a note and hands it to Aomine. It reads:

_Midorima-kun will tell you what I couldn’t all those months ago. I’m sorry about how there are so many unanswered questions. Do know that I never wanted to hide things from you… I never did._

_He is always watching. I’m sorry this is such a brief goodbye - please don’t come look for me anymore._

_With love,_

_Tetsuya_

“What does he mean by that?!”

Aomine buries his face into his hands, pulling at his hair. He remembers seeing Tetsuya back then, looking like he couldn’t stay - he should have done something, _anything,_ and now…

The expression on Midorima’s face is grave. His lips are pressed into a thin line, and he says, “Are you familiar with The Angel of Music?”

“That… that’s a myth.” Aomine laughs emptily, “You didn’t come here to tell fairytales, did you?”

Midorima cannot help himself from grimacing. “Convenient if it were a fairytale, but no. The Angel of Music is very much real, and he has his eye on Kuroko.”

“On _Tetsu_? So you mean to say that all the times he’s had to leave… his mentor is…”

“I’ve never met The Angel of Music face to face, but judging from your expression to Kuroko’s note and the way Kuroko seemed to be in a hurry when he pushed this note into my hands and practically begged, it is not an unlikely story. The Angel of Music is an infamous figure, and the closest lead to it is The Phantom - I’m assuming they are the same person, but there is no definite way to say for sure.”

Midorima stands up, tipping his hat. “I have overstayed my time here, and have passed on the message. I suggest you do as Kuroko says if you value your life.”

Aomine gets up on his feet, the chair rattling. “I can’t just stay here knowing that Tetsu is being kept against his will.”

“If you go, you are not the only who will suffer for it.” Midorima points out harshly, “I hope you understand. Good day, Aomine.”

* * *

 

Seijuro tells Tetsuya that he will be in his usual box.

He presses his lips to Tetsuya’s cheek, and for Tetsuya, the ring wound around his finger becomes heavier as Seijuro pulls him closer and brushes his fingertips along the exposed skin of his back.

“You’ll do wonderfully, Tetsuya.”

Tetsuya nods - and tearing himself away from Seijuro’s grasp - remembers to breath.

The audience catches their breath when they see him, and the stage is set for the first act of Faust.

To Tetsuya’s great surprise later on, however, the man playing Faust is different - much leaner, a bit shorter, and with heterochromatic eyes he cannot mistake for anyone else’s.

_What is Seijuro doing?_

It’s convincing enough when Tetsuya’s eyes flit from side to side, only appropriate for the scene when Marguerite beholds Faust for the first time. [1] There is no sign of the change of cast being odd to the audience or to the theatrical staff - if anything, no one seems to have noticed the change at all.

 

His eyes then search for someone else in the audience. It is a subtle act, and he sincerely hopes that Seijuro doesn’t notice.

Tetsuya does not deny how the faintest glimmer of hope that Aomine would be there had been present. Seijuro cups his chin in an intimate gesture, and smiles endearingly, almost like their first encounter. Tetsuya’s heart squeezes at the thought.

_Passed the point of no return, the final threshold_

_What warm unspoken secrets will we learn?_

_Beyond the point of no return_

He has only heard Seijuro’s voice so close a few times back then. It is gentle and kind, loving and tender, full of promise and full of anguish - music brings the best out of Seijuro. Tetsuya knows it with a crushing guilt as he opens his mouth to sing.

_When will the blood begin to race?_

_The sleeping bud burst into bloom?_

_When will the flames at last consume us?_

Seijuro’s hand travels down to his waist, to the curve of his gown. They are so close together that Tetsuya can feel himself flushing with hot shame. He stares defiantly into Seijuro’s eyes, as Seijuro’s rich baritone echoes through all four corners of the hall.

_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime_

_Lead me, save me from my solitude_

_Say you want me with you here beside you_

When the performance of the second act concludes and the people in the audience express their happiness, some exclaiming “bravo!”, Tetsuya does not feel his heart race. Instead, it beats in a slow rhythm, yearning for what once was as he and Seijuro’s fingers entwine and Seijuro leads him out of the stage to prepare for the third act.

Slowly, he is forgetting a life without Akashi Seijuro in it, because while he hates to admit it, it is singing as Seijuro’s other half that makes him feel the most alive. His heart may be an empty void, but it is filled by the way the music vibrates in his lungs, and makes itself known as the only part of him that still remains.  This pains him and frightens him all at once - especially when he finds out that the original Faust, Haizaki Shougo, is dead.

When there are no more people of note and Tetsuya vanishes into the night with Seijuro, he slips from Seijuro’s grasp and asks to be alone.

Strangely enough, Seijuro grants it.

Tetsuya wanders the halls and finds himself at the gates of the Opera House. The cold night breeze cuts deep into his skin, and as he stands in front of the door to a world of unknown possibility, he shrinks from it, bearing the knowledge that no matter what he does, he cannot bring himself to leave Seijuro, even if it meant paying for it with his life - and in a way, he already has.

When he returns to the familiar chambers, Seijuro is waiting, gaze expectant and full of longing.

“Tetsuya.” His voice is soft, as if he can scarcely believe it himself. “You came back.”

Tetsuya bites his lip, and lets out a shaky breath.

“You have to understand, Seijuro-sama.” He says, lowering his head. “You left me with no choice.”

* * *

  ** _Act III: Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again_**

* * *

 

Seijuro wants Tetsuya to forget.

It is an impossible task, he knows - he knows very well how strong Tetsuya’s attachment to the noble heir of the Aomine is. Seijuro has no place in Tetsuya’s past. It is an ineradicable truth that will never change.

So he continues to pave the way for the future that is in store for them, a watchful guardian and a manifestation of Tetsuya’s aspirations and nightmares.

_Tetsuya is not likely to ever forget._

Seijuro knows this, but perhaps that is alright for him, because it’s more than enough to have Tetsuya by his side.

Almost as if anticipating Aomine’s arrival, Seijuro’s eyes glint in the lone chamber, where he watches Tetsuya sleep soundly, wandering in honey-clad dreams and sweet sorrows of his own. Brushing a few locks of hair to the side, Seijuro wants to sing lullabies to Tetsuya - to offer him whatever comfort that he hasn’t been able to provide.

He does not know how.

So Seijuro does not sleep - he watches as the world takes on a silver gleam - watches as dawn breaks, and the dawn finds in Seijuro a monster of a man, who is thinking of someone so close, yet so far from reach.

Seijuro’s eyes soon droop. He lets the darkness consume him, the darkness that offers him solace, saying that he is lucky to have someone like Tetsuya, and that he has no time to be so soft - no time to loathe himself more than he already does.

For once, the sleepless Phantom of the Night rests and does not dream bad dreams. He wakes up to a blanket draped over his shoulders and the scent of fresh roses, with petals the color of blood.

 _It has been two weeks._ Thinking this, he crushes one of the roses in his palm. He imagines Tetsuya’s small frame curled up to his side, flinching away from a single touch - fragile, bent but unbroken, burning brightly in the abysmal state of Seijuro’s crumbling world. [2]

It is Tetsuya’s choice to stay… or, _is_ it? [3]

* * *

 

There are no concrete clues about the Phantom’s beginnings - some say he had been an entertainer in the royal Persian court in his younger days, while others say he’d been a thief who sang bewitching songs that echoed the desires of one’s heart, songs that eventually led to dementia and mania. There were stories about him being the son of a rich nobleman, too, who killed himself after the death of his wife and being left with a disfigured son.

There are certain stories that are more likely than others, but Aomine enters the Teikou Opera House with no clue of what he is against - only of what is at stake. Even though it is a very late hour, the night is very much young and alive - frankly, it rattles him, how the darkness has such a strong grip on his surroundings. Almost as if he has entered the territorial dominion of another.

He tries his best not to make the wooden floorboards creak when he reaches the backstage area, the path then leading away from the heart of the opera house. The place is well-maintained for the most part, and the shimmering splendor it had every time it was filled with visitors had been nothing close to deceit - yet still, some of the parts seemed almost abandoned. A series of rooms greet Aomine - they are all identical, save for the furniture they enclose. Most are locked, and Aomine does not risk knocking or yelling aloud, not just yet. He does not make a sound, and stops to think.

If he were The Phantom, where would he hide?

The light of his lantern flickers, and suddenly the darkness is more ominous. Aomine whirls, but finds nothing there, only the statue of a gargoyle. He cannot even risk breathing out in relief.

_“Are you looking for something?”_

 A strong blow hits him at the back of his neck. Dark spots start to fill his vision, and he strains to look at the appearance of his assailant.

There is a twisted smile on the man’s face, a white mask obscuring the latter half of it.

Without a doubt, this man is The Phantom.

* * *

 

The torture chamber is one full of mirrors, and the man in chains sees a past love, a boy with blue eyes and blue hair.

He forgets his own pain, only seeing a happy Kuroko Tetsuya in front of him - coming to take him home, or perhaps, coming to take him somewhere far, far away.

“Tetsu,” he whispers hoarsely, raw pain seeping into his voice. He feels tears brim at the corner of his eyes, “You had me so worried, you know that?”

Tetsuya raises a hand to stroke his cheek - it makes him forget the pain momentarily, because Tetsuya is safe, and that is all that matters.

“Say something, Tetsu.” He says, “I could use a bit of that. It’s just so quiet here, you know?”

Tetsuya only smiles sadly at him. That is when the tears first fall.

* * *

On his knees, Aomine looks at Tetsuya with all the passion that he can possess. Tetsuya is beautiful - he always has been, in Aomine’s eyes. The candelabra start to increase in precision of detail around Aomine. The air around him becomes suffocating, and faintly, he catches a whiff of the vanilla scent that Tetsuya always wears, tempting and inviting.

“You can’t stay here, Tetsu. I promised I would come back for you.” His voice breaks, and he hates himself for being so weak, for losing without having fought. “He’s a monster. Can’t you see?”

Tetsuya laughs softly. It is barely heard, but it feels like a series of echoes for Aomine in that enclosed space. In that moment, Tetsuya is all he sees - Tetsuya with his all-too-knowing smile. It reminds him of his first encounter with The Phantom when Tetsuya embraces him with his small hands. The embrace is cold like death, and the words that follow send shivers down his spine.

Tetsuya looks at him straight in the eye.

“We are all someone’s monster.” [4]

This time, Tetsuya does not stay.

* * *

 

Aomine’s tears are spent. His throat is parched, and he hasn’t had food in… who knows how long? There is no way to tell if it is night or day, and it is all so very simple.

The Phantom has left him to die, _and so has Tetsu._

_ Is this how it all ends? _

Aomine laughs bitterly.

He kicks at the ground and screams at the top of his lungs. His voice will reach no one - he is only wasting time that is already running out. He wants to see Tetsuya one last time.

He sucks in a deep breath and sees himself reflected in the largest of the mirrors, reduced to a beast of ravenous hunger, imprisoned and bound in chains.

This is how the Phantom must have felt, spending all his years hiding. It turns out that it is true - that knowing only darkness for all his life _can_ make a person go mad.

The ‘Tetsuya’ standing before him is not real. He knows this, and yet.

And yet.

“Goodbye, Aomine-kun.”

And yet, he raises his hand to wave, only to find it in shackles.

_This is how it must end._

“Sing for me, Tetsu.” He pleads, “I want to hear your voice again, one last time.”

* * *

Seijuro does not need to go to the torture chamber to know that there is no more sign of life within it. The opera breathes with him, and he hears the drastic change in its heartbeat. Time comes to a stop and Seijuro feels himself swell with something akin to triumph and apathy.

Aomine Daiki is dead.

* * *

  _Wishing you were somehow here again,_

_Wishing you were somehow near,_

_Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed,_

_Somehow you would be here…_

* * *

 

Tetsuya never stops thinking about Aomine - not when Seijuro caresses him, not when Tetsuya’s fingers pull at Seijuro’s hair and they give in to base desires, affairs of both heart and mind.

He has forgotten the sound of Aomine’s voice, having only the memories to rely on now. Seijuro is gentle - his every touch is full of love, and it is clear that The Phantom does bear feelings for him. It is hard to stomach, especially because Tetsuya knows that his heart is elsewhere, and that he can never give himself to Seijuro - not while Aomine is among the living.

Because surely, Aomine is happier wherever he is. What happened had been for the best. He firmly believed that.

Tetsuya knows that he has a string curled around Seijuro. After all, Seijuro is his prisoner as much as he is Seijuro’s. It hurts him, knowing that he is leading Seijuro along blindly - that he is leading Seijuro to believe in something that will never be. It is all an intricately woven illusion, and Tetsuya comes so close to believing it.

Ironically enough, it is Seijuro who breaks the spell.

“He came for you, you know.”

Hurt flashes in Tetsuya’s eyes. Seijuro does not regret it, because he would have had to inform Tetsuya at some point - Tetsuya deserves everything in the world, and he has taken all that away from him.

Tetsuya backs away from him. “Aomine-kun did?”

“I’m sorry.” Seijuro says. He finds that he truly means it, and that this is the point of no return. Things can never go back to the way they used to be.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“What would you have me do, Tetsuya?” Seijuro snaps, a few signs of actual anger and frustration crossing his face. “You’re aware of the way I feel about you. Do you know that I think about losing you every day, that it torments me to know that you will never be mine?” He clutches his chest, and heaves a large breath.

“What more do you want?” Tetsuya feels the anger replaced by sadness, by so much pain and the urge to break down. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Seijuro reaches a standstill. He feels overwhelmed by his emotions that are threatening to seep through his façade. He reaches for his mask, and bites his lip till it bleeds.

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand. I put him there, in the torture chamber.” He looks Tetsuya in the eye, even though he cannot bear it, seeing his protégé in so much pain. “The one you love so much is gone.”

Tetsuya’s lips tremble, his voice quivering, “That’s not true. I told him… I told him not to come back!” His hands ball into fists, and he covers his mouth to stifle a sob.

“He did not heed my warning, Tetsuya.” Seijuro wipes the tears streaking down Tetsuya’s cheeks with the back of his hand, “He was given a proper burial, at least. I made sure of that.”

“Just like how you made sure of his death?” The words spill out of Tetsuya’s mouth before he can even think. When Seijuro reaches out to touch him, he shakes his head vigorously.

“Don’t you see, Seijuro-sama? This is what you’ve always wanted. You’ve _won_. The price has been paid. Does it satisfy you, knowing that no one will stand in your way?”

Seijuro does not look at Tetsuya. “I do not intend to keep you here.”

Tetsuya struggles to keep his face a cold mask. “I’m tired of your games, Seijuro-sama. You do everything to secure my place here, to ensure that I will submit, but now you set me free?” He scoffs, “I fail to comprehend it. You are maddening, Seijuro-sama. Please stop this.”

“Aomine Daiki sacrificed his life for you.” Seijuro clarifies, “There is more to your life than being kept here against your will. You deserve more than that.” And it’s no lie, because as Seijuro says the words, he feels his heart clench.

Tetsuya is more than just his protégé.

The person standing in front of him is what he might have had in another world.

A love he might have had and a heart that he could have given his everything to.

The embodiment of his passion, the object of his affections.

Not all fairytales can end happily.

_This is how it must end._

However, much to Seijuro’s surprise, Tetsuya makes no move to leave.

“You have taken Aomine-kun’s life, Seijuro-sama, and mine as well,” Tetsuya caresses the side of Seijuro’s face, the side of it that is not hidden, “You are the only thing I live for now.”

“Don’t say that, Tetsuya. Don’t give up on yourself, I’m begging you-“

Tetsuya wastes no time and removes the mask, untangling the web they have spun around themselves. Seijuro comes undone, and the light is quick to vanish from Tetsuya’s eyes.

“I’m yours, Seijuro-sama."

The kiss that follows is sweet, deadly poison.

"I'm yours."

* * *

_Smile the Devil does,_

_For Love truly is a beautiful thing._

* * *

 

**_fin._ **

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> GUESS WHO THE DEVIL IS LOL (>:D) (Me? jk)  
> AOMINE AND KUROKO WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE A HAPPY ENDING BUT THE CHARACTERS MOVED ON THEIR OWN SO \^w^/ (I swear the original ending was so different but aaaaaa)  
> I think the irony of the title is imminent now. Akashi suffers for all eternity even after Kuroko dies, and it is love that makes him suffer. Kuroko’s aware that they make each other suffer. They started out happy with what they found, but… well, their love wasn’t really meant for this world, so yeah.  
> Fucked up, right?  
> Footnotes  
> [1] Faust is one of the first performances done in the novel by Gaston Leroux. It’s pretty obvious that I didn’t make the events chronological. The lyrics used are from the song “The Point of No Return” from POTO. I searched up the songs of Faust (the opera) but they seemed too awkward on AkaKuro so I ended up scratching everything out.  
> [2] You’re probably gonna argue that it’s Tetsuya’s world that’s crumbling. Arguably, Tetsuya’s world is undergoing collateral damage. Seijuro’s, on the other hand, is being shaken at its foundation because he has found something he has wanted and loved even more than music. He’s scared of hurting Tetsuya, and really doesn’t want to - but the mere fact that he is keeping Tetsuya against his will is already hurting Tetsuya anyway. He’s scared of letting Tetsuya go at this point in the story, because he’s still clinging onto a slim hope that Tetsuya can learn to love him like how he loves Aomine.  
> [3] Seijuro’s fragile state of mind strikes again. If not made clear enough, he is starting to have doubts on whether he can take away Tetsuya’s happiness - he does see it that way and at the same time struggles with looking at it that way too, because it looks as if Tetsuya made the choice to stay with Seijuro. It’s complicated because Tetsuya did make that choice: partly because Seijuro left him no choice, and partly because he feels like a huge part of him owes Seijuro?? At the same time, Seijuro knows he wants Tetsuya and both feels like he doesn’t deserve Tetsuya and that no one else deserves Tetsuya. Whoops.  
> [4] Quote from Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo. (Gosh, I love that book.)  
> *Haizaki Shougo is Piangi from the original source material.  
> HAHAHAHA so this fic is basically akkr ending up together and suffering for all eternity. I think it’s clear that in some ways, Akashi suffers because of kuroko and vice versa. It’s love of the most twisted kind - the love that hurts and the love that cures, genuine love and mad love. The situation is pretty tragic. I’m so sorry //sobs.  
> If there are any questions about why Aka and Kuro did the things they did, I’d be very happy to ramble about it.


End file.
